One Last Shot
by princessmelia
Summary: Hydra's taken over the base, and their people are swarming through all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work. They have one last shot to change the tides, and it's on Fitz's shoulders to do so. But how do you get through to someone you haven't spoken to in months? Fitzsimmons. One shot.


_**A/N- **This is in response to some theories being thrown around._

_Summary- Hydra's taken over the base, and their people are swarming through all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work. They have one last shot to change the tides, and it's on Fitz's shoulders to do so. But how do you get through to someone you haven't spoken to in months?_

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><p>They had taken refuge in the main meeting room of the base, keeping a hopeless eye on the screens as Hydra infiltrated their only home.<p>

Coulson watched the barely hatched dream dying before his eyes. Hydra's hands rifling through all their work, sieging their inventory, destroying all their progress. He shut his eyes at the sight. And it was all because he hadn't kept one of his own safe on an assignment. It was his own damn fault. They only had one option left.

His gaze slid to the young man in the corner. He was standing beside the mechanic who was as near constant to the engineer as a biochemist had been a year ago. A biochemist that was currently strolling through their labs with a gun held loosely in her hand.

"Fitz." The scientist lifted his eyes to meet Coulson's across the room. "You're the only chance we have."

The statement seemed to catch him off guard. Fitz's lips pursed together, then he opened his mouth, scrunched his eyebrows when no words came out, and then turned to Mack for help. The bigger man only shrugged. He had no words to give him.

"Phil, no," May warned from her spot in the room. She and Lance stood on either side of a table, Skye lying between them. Her shoulder was bleeding onto no longer relevant paperwork, the bullet hole the proof they did not want- Simmons was brainwashed. "We can't risk it."

"We don't have a choice," he snapped back. It was do or die time. If they could get Simmons back, they had a chance against Hydra. They could know what they were planning, figure out a way to beat them. He was sure of it. Well, not sure. But what other choice did they have? "Fitz. Are you up to it? Can you pull her out?"

Fitz swallowed hard before answering. "I, uh… I… I think so. Yeah, yes. Yeah."

Coulson nodded to him. Fitz had been making improvements with Mack's help, but stress normally slowed down his speech. The director hoped he wasn't sending the young man to his doom. His eyes slid over to Skye. "Then go. Get to the lab, get to her." They all turned to the screen where Simmons could be seen reading through a recent lab report. "You can turn this around for us."

As Fitz nodded, Mack put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze in support. The engineer smiled at his friend before walking over to Coulson.

The older man was holding out something for Fitz in his hand. "We'll be with you every step of the way." The device was small and was a form of comms. Fitz remembered working on the finishing touches for it before… everything. He slipped it into his ear easily.

Coulson motioned towards the door, and Fitz followed the gesture with shaky steps, hands wrapping around each other in front of him. He turned back once before leaving. Mack looked concerned, so Fitz gave him a little smile. Worry was concealed in Coulson's determined facade, but May was openly showing her distress. Lance was giving him a once over like he had misjudged Fitz before, so Fitz quickly looked away and stepped out into the corridor, hating how he felt like he was being observed in a lab (funny how that worked).

It was a short trip to Simmons, but one that had him riddled with worry. He hadn't seen her in... what? How many months had it been? Surely more than four. Maybe even half a year. That was a long time to be away from someone.

And she had left. She had left because he was broken and damaged, and she didn't want to be around him anymore. Coulson hadn't told him that, but he didn't need him to. He would always remember how allusive the director had been when he'd asked point blank. He was shielding him (ha) from the truth.

"You don't have to go in there." She was back, behind his shoulder. All too soon, she was in front of him, blocking his path. Her hair was long in a ponytail, and her outfit hadn't changed since he'd first seen her months ago. "You should go be safe."

"I have to do this. For the team." He stared into her eyes, which weren't quite clear. Nothing was clear about her image anymore. She was blurry on the edges. "And for you, Simmons." The hallucination vanished.

One more turn, and he was suddenly there. And she was there.

Her hair was short, wavy like it was supposed to be naturally. He suddenly remembered all the times she had complained about having to straighten it.

"Simmons, no, uh, Jemma?" She turned towards him, gun lifted automatically. Fitz put his hands in the air. His heart pounded in his chest, and not entirely because of the gun. Simmons was there, real and alive in front of him. He had to blink back tears.

"Get out of the lab or I shoot." The words weren't said in a threatening tone, merely one of calm. It was an order, and she seemed happy to comply. It made his stomach sick.

"Jemma, I… it's been… I… I m-... I missed you." He cursed every cell in his brain that had decided to die. If he could say what he needed to, he could save her. He could pull her out of this, if he could remind her. But he was failing again. Failing because she was only looking at him with mild irritation, not softening her gaze or coming out of a trance.

"Fitz," Coulson said in his ear, and Fitz was reminded they were all listening and watching, "you need to get through to her. You need to find the words."

He blinked a few times. Didn't Coulson know that was his problem? Words. That was what he couldn't get, words. He continued to stare at Jemma, at a loss for what to say. It'd been months, and she was older. She was different, she smelled different. More like grease and gun powder than disinfectant from the lab. Yet there was still that hint of strawberry he had always loved. And her hair was cut different, but it would still be soft under his fingers and shine in pieces of gold in the sun. And though he couldn't see it, her smile would still be the same. It would still make his heart beat fast in his chest.

And Fitz realized it wasn't the first time he had struggled for words around Jemma Simmons.

Months before the pod, even, he'd lacked the words, and the courage, to tell her how he felt. He'd been sitting on a plane, staring up at her, the perfect opportunity to tell her everything, and he hadn't. He hadn't known what to say. Even at the very end, he hadn't told her. He'd shown her.

It was rash. It was crazy. It was his last shot. Moving quickly, Fitz sprinted across the room fast enough to keep surprise on his side. Placing a shaking hand on either side of her face, Fitz leaned in and did what he had wanted to do so many times before. Studying at The Academy, working in the lab, running on a mission, so many times he had stopped himself, and now here they were, both damaged and broken, but kissing.

Her lips were chapped under his, but he didn't care. She tasted like strawberry chapstick and something that was distinctly Jemma. The gun was still awkwardly pressed between them, but he could feel her hand relax as she responded to the kiss, her lips hesitatingly moving against his.

It was working.

He pulled back slowly, keeping his hands where they were.

"Jemma?" he asked cautiously. Her eyes were closed, but she held a finger up to her lips. Reaching upwards, she gently moved one of his hands to rest on her shoulder before she reached into her ear and removed a comms device of her own. Her eyes opened, and she beamed up at him before remembering to crush the device against the lab table.

"Fitz," she whispered happily, before joyous tears leaked out of her eyes. "Oh, Fitz…" Pulling him into a hug, he could feel her fingers tangle themselves in his hair, and her face press into his shoulder. He'd nearly forgotten what a hug from Jemma felt like. He returned the hug in full force, savoring the way he could smell her hair and stroke it under his fingers, as soft as he imagined.

"Fitz?" Coulson's voice broke through his reverie, and he snapped backwards out of the hug, keeping his hands on Simmons' shoulders.

"Sir?"

"If you don't mind, we still have a situation going on, and we could use Simmons' help."

"Right." Fitz nodded, and Simmons let out a little giggle as she watched him. "We need to, uh, need to…"

"Meet up with the team?" she offered with a warm smile.

"Yeah. Exactly right, Simmons." And it was amazing how easily her hand still slipped into his as they made their way through the halls.

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><p><em>Thoughts? <em>

**-princessmelia**


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